


One Last Night

by ofwyrmsandguns



Series: Wyrm's Freddy series that needs a better name [1]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: (As in I'm doing my own thing regardless of what any accepted timeline to this game is), Animal Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Tags will be updated as the work is added to, cannon divergent- alternate timeline, ghost hunting show, gruesome description of animal death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-19 20:15:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19979887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofwyrmsandguns/pseuds/ofwyrmsandguns
Summary: Tragic tales of murder and missing children make good money for ghost hunting programmes. A shame that this one decided to go to the one pizzeria that was actually haunted.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please do note that I am 100% writing a fic that is set in America and I a) refuse to use American terminology (there will be no flashlights only torches, they don't flash) and b) have never actually been anywhere where animatronics are used, nevermind to a Chuck-E-Cheese. It's not gonna stop me, so hold on and enjoy the ride, or get out now.

“More dead children then?” Daniel asked, fingering through the stacks of paper.

“Well done, you've summed up the entire history of the place in 4 words.” Miles joked.

They were sat around the table in their 'studio', otherwise known as Ethan's kitchen table. Stacks of paper covered it, mostly newspapers and a few 'acquired' police reports. Apparently it was highly requested by their fans. The more tragic tales usually were.

“You've got history there, right? You and Fran.” Monnie asked Miles, grinning at the photos of the restaurant. “Wish I could see you wearing one of these uniforms.”

“Mom probably has one somewhere if you're that desperate.” Miles offered.

Fran was quietly examining the information laid out on the table, her eyes drifting back over to the photos of the missing children time and time again. The newspaper had used one of the photos from her family photo album, after all. The restaurant had been closed nearly 15 years now, no doubt any trace of the children was long gone. All they were going to do was re-open old wounds in a scarred town in the name of a shitty YouTube channel. But she had to admit, she was curious.

A newspaper hit her in the face, jarring her out of her thoughts.

“That's you, right Fran? In the middle.” Ethan asked. It was; a photo from her 7th birthday party, one of the few photos with the lesser missed missing kids in it. Fritz was sat beside her, pouting at the camera (he'd always hated having his picture taken), while Gabriel was off to the side, trying to pretend he hadn't been invited to a little girl's birthday party. Foxy and Chica were also in the frame, posing with the birthday girl. The newspaper editor had had to circle the two to make it clear who was actually missing. It was the best photo anyone had of them. All the other kids had more of a range of photos to chose from.

“Yeah, it is.” Fran answered, folding the paper over and pushing it back into the middle of the table. She didn't really want to look at it. “I knew them. Well, Fritz anyway. He was in my class.”

“Brutal.” Monnie said, pressing the record button on her camera as she held it up to Fran's face. “So what do you think happened to them?”

A shiver ran down Fran's spine. “I hope they're at peace, wherever they are.” She answered plainly, quickly shifting to her on-screen accent.

“Do you believe the tales that the pizzeria is haunted by the tortured souls of the missing youths?” Monnie asked.

“I think they're still there, in a sense. At least, they were when I still lived here. But haunting it? No.” Fran shut it down.

“What about you, spotty teen? Did you see anything strange when you worked there?” Monnie asked, aiming the camera at Miles' face. He'd moved to the town when he was 16, getting a job at the aging pizzeria a few short years before it shut down. He'd been the one to bring up the place at all, whereas Fran would've preferred to keep it a secret.

“Maybe. Everyone always said Foxy was the most haunted thing there, but he was always out of order while I worked there. Freddy gave me the creeps though. And Chica's laugh...” Miles shuddered.

“What was wrong with Chica's laugh?” Ethan asked.

“Sometimes, it sounded like crying.” Miles admitted quietly, knowing how stupid it sounded to anyone that had never seen the chicken live. But Fran knew exactly what he meant. After all, they'd started acting up before her family moved away.

“Yeah right.” Monnie laughed, shutting the camera off and putting it back on the table.

“We all know the drill, right?” Ethan asked for the thousandth time. “We're moving all the equiptment to Fran's house since it's closest, then we'll interview some locals. I've got some really good ones lined up, but we'll ask 'the man on the street' too.”

Fran hadn't aimed to move back to the same town, but the cheapest home in the area just so happened to be the one most storied to be haunted. If nothing else, her time living in England had taught her not to be scared of houses with a history of abductions and suicide. She'd've never slept if that was the case.

“We'll use Fran and Miles to get people to talk, but we'll edit out anything that might tie Fran back to this place. We want to keep up the illusion, huh? They'll do the interviews with the people I've booked up already. Daniel, Monnie, you'll do the man in the street interviews.”

“And you'll, what, sleep?” Daniel asked, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, I gather the information and point you to places. It's important.” Ethan argued.

“That's enough.” Monnie demanded. She'd worked with Ethan the longest, and knew when to step in to stop his hour long tirades on his own self importance. “It's a plan, that's all we need.”

“Yeah yeah.” Daniel agreed huffily. The street interviews were always so boring, most people didn't know anything about what they were filming, and seeing as the last update to this story was 15 years ago, he didn't have much hope for this one either. He had the face for television, but had found himself stuck in this small time gig of ghost hunters, co-host with a fake persona that made him feel sick to the stomach.

Fran and Miles knew better than to complain. Monnie and Ethan were the only people seen as indespensible; their roles had already had at least 3 people in it before them. It wasn't a secure job, but it was the best they could get at the minute. At least it was easy. Miles was back up camera man, taking different shots to Monnie that rarely made the final cut but still got him paid, while Fran was 'the face'; dressed in black and speaking to the ghosts wherever they went, even if the place felt deader than a door mouse. At least the fans liked her 'accent', the one that pained her to put on every time, just to please the audience.

The town awaited.


	2. Interviews

They'd agreed to meet at a cafe rather than in the man's home. He was taking care of his parents full time now that they were old, and they were solemly against the interview altogether. Fran and Miles tried to reassure him, but he still seemed very jittery.

“You have to understand, ma and pa have been living with the guilt for 26 years, and they're still not really over it.” He said shyly, twisting his coffee cup in his hands.

“It's alright, I know it's hard.” Fran said softly. “But anything you can tell us might help our investigation.”

“I'm gonna switch the camera on now, Fran will start the interview, just be yourself, okay?” Miles said, placing the camera on the table to keep it steady and keep his face out of shot. He didn't want to be shown.

The man nodded, fidgetting a little bit more while Fran waited for the signal to start from Miles.

“Thank you for your time, Jack. I'm sure it will be most helpful.” She thanked him. “What can you tell us about the missing children?”

“Not much more than anyone else for most of them, I didn't actually meet them, you see, I was 1 year old at the time they disappeared.” He admitted, blushing as he realised how strange it would be. “But, you asked my parents for an interview, and I know they'd never want to talk, but I do.”

“You are related to Susie, correct?” Fran asked, trying to pull him back onto topic.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Yeah, she was my older sister. Ma and pa always wanted a big family, but they just to say got us two. Broke their hearts when she disappeared.” He said softly. “Not that they ever let it show, I didn't even know I had an older sister until the kids at school started teasing me about it.”

“They never told you?” Fran asked softly, reaching out a hand to comfort him.

“No, they didn't want to talk about it much. But, uh, you're ghost hunters right?” Jack said. “So you really think they're all dead?”

“That's what we're trying to figure out, anyway.” Fran offered.

“Jeremy won't like that. But, I know Susie's dead.” Jack gave a nervous laugh. “I, uh, scared my parents when I was really little, you see.”

“Oh?”

“Don't laugh, but they brought me to the pizzeria when I was 3, and they thought it was strange that I kept walking up to the animatronics to try and give them a slice of my pizza.”

“Well, surely they'd get hungry, all that performing they do.”

“It wasn't quite that. I told them 'Susie's hungry, she hasn't eaten in years.'” Jack admitted. “I don't even remember how I knew her name, like I said, I wouldn't even learn that a Susie existed for another 5 years. But I already knew she was dead.”

////////////////////

Monnie and Daniel had set themselves up near the old restaurant. The front door was boarded up from the outside and there didn't seem to be windows. The paint on the old sign was flaking off, but enough remained to faintly spell out its name and show the big, smiling face of a teddy bear. Somehow children must've loved it once, even if it gave creepy, uncanny valley vibes now.

A woman, roughly in her 50s, was walking down the street and stopped to stare at them. Daniel waved her over with his winning smile, while Monnie rolled her eyes at him. The woman approached anyway.

“Hey gorgeous, fancy being on our show with us?” Daniel asked, as forward as ever.

“What's the show?” The woman asked, clearly a little taken aback by Daniel but nevertheless interested.

“It's a paranormal investigation channel on YouTube, we're investigating the old pizzeria.” Daniel explained, pointing to the building behind her, as if there was any other in town.

“Oh. That.” The woman said softly. “A shame what happened to those kids, you know.”

“Are you interested in a quick interview?” Daniel asked.

“I don't know that much about it, you'd get better stories from the police, I'm sure...”

“We've got someone else on that, we want stories from the people. They're always more interesting.”

The woman blushed slightly, but nodded anyway. Monnie lifted the camera and gave Daniel the cue to start.

“So tell me, did you go to this place often?”

“Every week at it's prime. Everyone did, the kids loved it. I always had someone young enough to take, from when it first opened all the way to its last closure. It's sad to see it like this.”

“Including the week the kids went missing?”

The woman shyly looked at her feet. “The day before, actually. I was so relieved my kids were fine, I barely even thought about the missing kids until a few days after.”

“But you still went back, even after that?”

“It took us a couple of weeks, but my little ones missed Freddy. Mind you, apparently we didn't miss anything but power failures for most of that first week.”

“Do you ever regret it?”

“...No. All my kids have grown up now, but they always speak so fondly of the characters, I wouldn't trade those memories for anything.”

“What about rumours we've heard of the smells?”

“Oh we got used to it after a while, really. It wasn't that bad. Especially after they reopened in '87. Honestly, people really liked to speak ill of this place.”

/////////////////

The house of the old sheriff was plain but pretty; a wildflower garden out front with wooden benches and a stone bungalow set back from the rest of the street. The old sheriff sat on the bench while Fran and Miles sat on the grass, absently picking at the blades while the sheriff got ready.

“Do you think of them still, Fran?” He asked softly, running an arthritic finger along the whorls in the wood.

“Sometimes. More than I want, I think.” Fran admitted, ignoring Miles' stare.

“I suppose someone other than me has to; won't be long until they haven't family to remember them, anyway.” He mused. He gave a slight nod to Miles. Fran straightened up.

“Can you tell us about the suspect? How'd you manage to find him?”

“Video footage, some guy in a mascot costume entered the pizzeria, passed by various cameras and then to the office and wiped all the memory. We never found the costume, but we did find the security guard outside, knocked unconscious the next day. We questioned him, but we couldn't find any evidence that it was him. We had to let him go.”

“I thought the costume was from Freddy's, how'd he enter wearing it?”

“There was a sister location. Fredbear's Family Diner, a couple of towns over. We think it was taken from there, but we couldn't prove it. Couldn't find the costume, couldn't find the man.” The sheriff gave a sad chuckle. “He tried again, you know.”

“What?” Fran asked, forgetting her professionalism in her shock. Not more...?

“Didn't catch him, again. He tried to lure kids away in the new location that opened in '87, few towns the other way from Fredbear's. The old animatronics had been moved there from our town. It was strange, the old Foxy seemed to chase him out, they didn't even know those old robots still had power.”

“Foxy could run?” Miles asked, the thought seeming familiar to him, but without having seen it himself, it seemed a bizarre idea.

“He was the newest of them all, high tech, brand new line of robots, could run and grab suspects and everything. Meant to be added security. Guess they failed.” The sheriff shrugged. Miles supposed it explained why they never got rid of Foxy anyway, if he was meant to be more than just an entertainer. “That thing was just wrong though, the fox was always acting up, glitching, out of order. What a waste of money. If the kids hadn't fallen in love with him so readily, he'd've been thrown to the pavement in weeks.”

///////////////////////

A group of 4 adults, 2 men and 2 women, were walking towards Daniel and Monnie. They seemed all close in age, and the perfect age to have been kids at the time of the disappearences. They looked prime for the picking, and Daniel was keen to harvest.

“Good day my fine people!” He called out, stopping them in their tracks. “I don't suppose you know anything about this pizzeria, do you?”

They stopped and whispered between themselves before drawing closer, glancing at Monnie and her camera. “Yeah, we were regulars, what's up?” The man at the front asked

“We're just gathering information for our show, what can you tell me about the missing kids incident?”

“Oh come on, that's the most boring of the events here! Why do you wanna know about that?” A woman stood close to him squawked.

“Well, surely you've heard rumours that the pizzeria is haunted? We want to know why.” Daniel asked with more flourish.

“It was my party.” A woman declared, pushing to the front of the crowd. “The night the kids went missing, it was my birthday.”

_Jackpot._ “So any of you could've been a victim? Lucky you then.”

“Yeah, well, we weren't.” The woman countered.

“Jeremy was though.” A man said quietly from the back. They all turned to face him. “My friend Jeremy, he took my slice of cake cos I couldn't eat it.”

“You and your chocolate allergy, George.” The ex-birthday girl jeered.

“Jeremy Fitzgerald, right? Declared missing a couple of days after Susie and Cassidy. Did any of you know them?”

“I knew Susie in passing, sweet girl. Recently lost her dog. Poor family.” The first man mused.

“And I knew Cassidy quite well. Bit of a temper, but a nice girl. Her family skipped town not long after, we all thought it was suspicious but our parents said not to pry.” The woman mused.

“What about the other kids? Did any of you know Fritz or Gabriel?” Daniel asked. The looks of disgust told him more than words.

“Ugh. Gabriel.” The woman moaned.

“He ruined everything. Tried to ruin my party by shouting over my birthday song.” The ex-birthday girl said.

“Violent kid, bad home. I'd vote him most likely out of all the kids we knew growing up to become a serial killer.” The man explained.

“He was that bad? At the age of 12?” Daniel asked, a little incredulous.

“He was a bully mostly, but it was more than that...” The woman started.

“He didn't really have a temper, he just got... quiet. And calculating.” George continued.

“And then he'd attack someone, and he was brutal.” The man finished.

“I wouldn't be surprised if no-one missed him.” The ex birthday girl added, and everyone agreed.

///////////////////////

The school had barely changed. The chairs were more beaten up than ever, the odd crack in the wall from when a teacher or student had punched it was still there. Even the smell, that awful stench of burnt chips from the cafeteria and the inexplicable smell of chalk that lingered years after the last chalk board had been removed, hadn't changed. Fran wondered if the supply closet in the attic was still haunted.

One more thing hadn't changed, and as they entered the old classroom the two familiar faces beamed at her: Miss Morris, the sweet and kind 2nd grade teacher, and Ms Wainwright, the strict and harsh 7th grade teacher. Miss Morris immediately pulled Fran into a hug.

“It's so good to see you again, Fran! How have you been?” Morris asked.

“Alright, yeah. I'll be better when this episode is done though.” Fran admitted. Morris nodded sadly; she'd taught all the missing children except Cassidy at some point, and had been the first to even consider that Fritz might be among them.

“I'm surprised you're not being interviewed about Fritz, you two used to be so close.” Morris mused, to which Fran winced in shame.

“Ethan-our producer- wants to keep up the idea that I was born and bred in Britain, so I can't.” Fran admitted. She hated it, pretending that she didn't know or miss her childhood friend, but at the moment she needed the money more. Morris squeezed her shoulder in comfort.

“Did no one else really want to talk about Gabriel then? I feel your producer was scarping the bottom of the barrel when he called me up.” Ms Wainwright asked. Her face was as sharp as her voice, all pointy edges you could too easily skewer yourself on. The two ladies were like chalk and cheese, but were rarely seen apart outside of work.

“'Fraid so. No-one really knew him, and most people that reckon they did...”

“Didn't understand him.” Wainwright finished. Fran nodded lightly. Even she mostly knew him in passing, when he dropped his cousin off at her house and picked him up again hours later. Even at her birthday party, he used the opportunity for food rather than to talk to her. They'd possibly exchanged less than 100 words in all the time she'd vaguely known him, and even that was quite a lot compared to the other people in her year group at school.

“Shall we start with Fritz, then?” Miles asked, readying the camera. He'd been too old to have met the teachers when he moved here, and it was feeling a little awkward to be stood in the middle of the conversation he had no part in. The teacher's sat down in the small seats they'd pulled out, with Fran sat facing them, the camera beside her.

“Miss Morris, you taught all the children except Cassidy, correct? Can you think of anything that connected them?” Fran started.

“Nothing the police didn't think of. The only thing they had in common was their love of that pizzeria, but then, so did all the kids in my class.” Morris gave a sad smile. “Those old robots meant so much to them, I miss the drawings the kids used to give me of them.”

“What can you tell me about Fritz?” Fran asked, almost able to mouth along to the answers.

“Rambuctious child; he loved to run and climb, he was never still by choice. His favourite colour was pink, he coloured everything in in pink. He used to get bullied a lot, children could be so cruel to kids different than them, but his cousin Gabriel liked to sort that out personally.” Morris recalled. She never forgot her children. “The classroom was a lot quieter after Fritz disappeared.”

Fran cleared her throat for her own sake before continuing. “You put in the missing persons report for him, how did you realise he was missing?” Fran asked. Morris bit her lip.

“I realised it a lot sooner than I reported it but... I held out hope. It... wasn't unknown for his cousin to skip school for long periods of time, I hoped he was imitating Gabriel and that his aunt would report if anything was amiss. But after a week, and reports from some concerned parents of one of his friends, I was forced to face the truth.” Morris concluded, rubbing her hands for comfort. Wainwright patted her leg.

“I put in the report for Gabriel shortly after. Gabriel would skip weeks of school, but with his cousin missing too, I knew he wasn't just playing hooky.” Wainwright added.

“What was Gabriel like then? I hear he had a reputation.”

“He was always quiet. Smarter than people gave him credit for, but held back from his potential by circumstances. He lost his dad not long after joining my class.” Morris recalled sadly. “His favourite colour was green.”

“He'd livened up a bit by 12, but only when provoked.” Wainwright continued. “He slept through any class he could and it didn't take much to rile him up. None of the other kids wanted to sit next to him, they thought he was a bully.”

“Was he?” Fran asked.

“He was cruel, but only to those that were cruel to him, his mother or Fritz. He rarely hit first, but he always hit back twice as hard. The rare occaision that he struck out first was usually out of stress.”

Wainwright looked down at her hands, wrung them slightly, then returned to the camera. “Everyone knew his mother was an alcoholic, even Gabriel, but he didn't like the way people would say it. So he taught them not to. All his teachers tried to punish the behaviour out of him.”

“But it didn't work?”

Wainwright's silence spoke volumes. “...Fritz's parents died a year before Gabriel joined my class, his best friend moved schools 3 months after that. Gabriel was practically raising his cousin in place of his mother, while his mother drank away what little money they had. Gabriel came to my class hungry more often than he came to it sated.”

Fran's parents had explained it to her not long after they'd moved away, how Gabriel and Fritz could have been missing for so long before someone noticed, why Fritz used to eat like a starved animal whenever he came round their house. But it still pained her to hear it said again; the thought of the two children going about most of their life with gnawing hunger making her feel sick to her stomach.

“I snuck him food and snacks as often as I could; he'd never accept them, but when his bag was unmanned I'd drop some in. I wish I'd done more.” Wainwright brought her hands to her eyes, quickly wiping away her tears while Morris patted her shoulder. “His mother drank herself to death barely days after they were announced to be missing. At any memorial for those children, there was never anyone to leave flowers for Gabriel, so I did. No matter who they were, someone needs to mourn a dead child.”

////////////////////////

“Freddy's? I used to work there.”

Jackpot! Daniel and Monnie had finally found a promising person after hours spent in the blazing sun. Most of the people they asked had blown them off, and the ones that did want to talk mainly had stories about the parties. He wanted to know about the hauntings.

“When was that then?” Daniel asked.

“'88 to '90, went to college after that.” The woman explained. “Most teenagers in town tried to get a job there; we'd grown up watching the band so it made sense, but...”

“But...?” Daniel urged.

“It was so creepy. You don't realise as a child, but those machines have some horrific uncanny valley to them. And we'd have to clean their faces too, urgh.”

“Did you ever get the sense that the place was haunted?”

“Never, but I didn't work the night shift. Apparently that's when shit would hit the fan. Mostly superstition I reckon.” The woman scoffed. Daniel must've physically sagged at that news as she hurriedly continued. “But, one of my coworkers was convinced she'd seen some of the posters change one time, into drawings of children crying. Real creepy like.”

“Thanks for your time.” Daniel said, all his peppiness gone.

/////////////////////////

One last interview, and possibly the most gruelling of them all. Cassidy had no-one left in town to talk to.

The Fitzgerald family had once had incredible wealth, but it was all spent on searching fruitlessly for Jeremy Jr. Everyone said Jeremy Sr. had suffered as no man on earth ought to, having lost his son so soon after his wife's death; never giving up hope that he'd be reunited with his son, searching every which way possible for him. Even at the cost of his own health.

His health had been failing him ever since '87, but no doubt he still clung on for the sake of his son. Neither Ethan nor Fran had the heart to tell him that they were from a ghost hunting show.

“I haven't any money left to pay you for your help.” Jeremy said solemly.

“We don't want any, I promise.” Fran assured him.

“If you do find my son, give him a message for me, please?” Jeremy asked, holding out a shaky hand for Fran to hold. A horrible scar poked out from under his hairline and the wall behind him held more photos of his son than of any of the grandchildren his daughter had bore him. Jeremy swallowed and stared into the camera. “I love you, Jeremy. I always have. I'll wait for you forever, just please. Please come home. I miss you more and more each day.”

Fran couldn't bare to carry on the interview.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I nearly have chapter 3 finished too, but that might take a little bit, and there's no promise I'll get round to it before my interests shift again so wish me luck!


	3. 11pm= The gang's all here

“We're breaking and entering? I thought we had permission!”

They were sat on the roof of Freddy's, yanking at an old, rusted roof panel that granted emergency entrance to the restaurant. It was nearing on 11pm, so thankfully no one was watching. The cameras were off.

“We do! But the owner we got permission from isn't the one with the keys. So probably not illegal, since he told us of this entrance.” Ethan summarised, finally lifting the latch. “You first Miles, you're the expendable one.”

Miles did as he was told, followed by Monnie, then Daniel. Fran glared at Ethan as she passed, while Ethan dropped down last. The latch lay open on the roof.

It was dark; the power long since turned off and the lights likely scrapped. It smelt of damp, and mould, and rot. No doubt something had died in here. Daniel's squeal as something ran over his foot meant it was likely a mouse.

Ethan flicked on his torch, passing one each to Fran and Daniel. “I brought plenty, and spare batteries too. No spooking us.” He bragged, running the light across the drawings on the walls, the cameras following the light. Most of the papers had been dampened to destruction, too rotten to make out the characters, but here and there Fran caught flashes of brown, or yellow, or purple. There seemed to be very few drawings of Foxy.

Miles stopped and smiled at a picture of a child hugging Bonnie. “I remember that one.” He said, a sense of pride and nostalgia in his voice. “First one I put up.”

Monnie's camera was on him now, Daniel prepped already. “How did they decide which ones went up? Was it the creepiest drawing each night?”

Miles shook his head. “Any that didn't have pizza or piss on it, really. We didn't get that many when I worked here, our popularity had fallen so much.”

They continued down the hall slowly, clouds of dust left swirling in their wake, puddles of water below their feet. “It was such an honour, when I was little. To get your picture put up. They must've gotten loads every night, everyone went to Freddy's.” Fran reminisced.

“Ever got one of yours up?” Miles asked, glancing at the drawings as if to search for hers.

“Yeah, one of Foxy. But that was before it closed down the first time.” Fran said sadly. “They probably didn't put it back up for the reopening.”

“How many times did this restaurant shut down anyway?” Monnie scoffed.

“Are we counting the spin offs as well or...?” Miles asked with a playful grin.

“I think someone said that we were going to the fourth or fifth iteration of Freddy's when this location was first opened.” Fran added with a shrug. Freddy's, Fredbears, Circus Baby, Chica's Diner, there'd been so many attempts to make the pizzeria work. They'd finally gotten it right when the kids had gone missing.

They'd entered the restaurant somewhere near the toilets and were soon in the party room. The tables and chairs were still out, but no party hats or napkins, just dust and flies. The floors were grubby and sticky, each footstep taking more effort than comfortable to pry from the floor. Each footstep was accompanied by a horrid, tacky sound.

The curtains on Pirate's Cove were drawn and faded, the sign outside it read 'Out of Order'. But the main stage was ready.

Curtains open, lights off, Freddy and the band seemed poised to play. Bonnie stood to attention, his hands ready to pass over the strings on his guitar. Chica, her beak smiling as best as it could, the cupcake held out, ready to celebrate. And Freddy, blue eyes sparkling and mic held comfortably in front of him, the years being kinder to all of them than Fran could've even hoped. They looked different from when she was little, and dirtier too, but still all there. It was as if they'd been waiting for an audience again. Monnie and Miles held the cameras over them for a long time.

“Creepy.” Daniel declared, his face screwed up on one side in disgust. He walked up to the stage to stare at the old band, motioning for Monnie to keep rolling. “Look at their faces, they look stained by something.” Daniel clambered up on the stage, having to hold back from holding his nose. Their fur smelt like it was rotting, the old material now lost its fuzziness and dustier than an antique shop. Daniel stopped at Bonnie, staring up into those big red eyes and across the stain tracks running down from them. “The stains, they almost look like... blood.”He said quietly, indicating for Monnie to cut before howling with laughter. “What a fucking joke this is, Ethan. Why the fuck are we even doing this, investigating an old restaurant with some creepy robots?”

“Hey, don't be rude!” Fran snapped, reaching to pull Daniel off the stage, but he jumped out of her reach before she could pull. “These guys are special, show them some respect.”

“Fran, they're robots. They haven't even worked for 15 years.” Daniel scoffed.

“Animatronics Daniel. There's a difference.” Monnie added.

“Not here, there isn't.” Miles countered. “They're not attached to the floor, therefore, not animatronics.”

“Who cares?” Daniel shrugged, walking up to glare at Freddy next.

“Give him a hug!”

“Don't touch him!”

Fran and Miles yelled at the same time, turning to glare at each other afterwards.

“You hug Freddy, Miles. He's a teddy bear. It's his job.” Fran said, waving at the old bear.

“Not if you cherish your face, you don't, Fran.” Miles countered. “It's rule number 6. Don't. Touch. Freddy. You haven't been here in over 20 years, you don't know anything about this place. They're barely the same robots!”

Hurt, Fran opened her mouth to argue back, but was interrupted by Daniel jumping off the stage and landing between them. “Think I'll believe the guy who was here more recently, actually.” Daniel added, clapping one hand around Miles's shoulder. “No offence, Fran.”

“I'm gonna go see if I can get the power on.” Miles said hurriedly, walking past Fran and heading backstage, before turning around to walk backwards more slowly while addressing them. “Anyone gonna join me?”

Daniel agreed, joining up with Miles then pushing ahead, whistling in shock as his torch passed over the back room. The walls were lined with heads of the band; dusty, dirty faces, eyeless yet staring, each with stains down their cheeks. A mouse caught in the light scurried back to a Chica face and was welcomed back with frantic squeaks. Miles already had his camera rolling, holding his breath for when Daniel would see-

“Eek! Is that a skeleton?” Daniel screamed as his torch passed over something dark, bony and dead. He examined it closer, the bones reflecting the torch light and cold to the touch. Daniel's quick breathing slowed down. “No, no, it's a robot. Everything's alright.”

“Was that screaming?” Fran asked, her stage voice back.

“Nothing exciting, my dear.” Daniel shouted back, cursing under his breath that his scream was caught on camera. Instead he took it out on Miles. “So where's the power switch, pizza boy?”

“Down here, co-star.” Miles pointed through the door with his thumb, leading the way down via torchlight. Stairs descended into darkness, an old generator and power switch at the bottom. “No guarantees it'll work, though.” Miles said, grabbing the switch.

A scream rang through the halls a split second before the switch was flicked. The two men rushed back to the group, as the lights lazily blinked on.

/////////////////////////

“Night vision is still working fine. Use the stage as a backdrop, Fran.” Monnie instructed, stepping back to get as much of the animatronics in the background as possible. Fran was stood in front of Freddy, clearing her throat and prepping her stage voice once again. Their mostly American audience really seemed to get a kick from a British goth presenting a ghost hunting show alongside a southern gentleman.

“Greetings, dear children. Tonight we examine a pizzeria so haunted, no locals dare to enter, even 15 years after it closed. Here, where 5 children went missing, presumed murdered. Tonight, we investigate Freddy Fazbear's.”

A scream from the back room interrupted Fran, but no other sounds followed. “Was that screaming?” She asked, still with that RP accent.

“Nothing exciting, my dear, don't fear.” Daniel's voice came over clear. Monnie stopped the camera.

“Fucking Daniel, I'll edit it out in post. That was fine, Fran.” Monnie crossed the pizzeria, still grumbling to herself. “Ohhhhh make the shot spoooooky Monnie. Make it creeeeeeepy. Dammit, we're investigating haunted rabbits, man. They're purple.” She flung herself down in one of the chairs at the tables, brows furrowing. “Hey, no-one dares to enter? There's a scrabble game set up.”

Fran wandered over to check it out too. 6 players, the game looked as if it had been interrupted, and a sheet of paper with barely legible chicken scratch on it seemed to be keeping score. It declared that 'J' was winning, while 'F' was losing. “Probably some teens.” Fran offered, but the words on the board barely seemed to be above elementary level. Monnie powered up the camera again to get some shots.

Ethan clicked his fingers twice to grab their attention. “Who's who again?” He asked, waving one finger lazily back and forth between the band members. Fran sighed; she'd already told him twice and they were easy names, Ethan just never listened.

“Bonnie, Freddy and Chica.” She repeated, pointing to each in turn. “If Foxy's still here, he'll be in Pirate's Cove.” She pointed at the closed curtains.

Ethan quickly crossed the restaurant to fling open the curtains, revealing Foxy stood to attention, hook raised and eyepatch up, ready to start like the others. But Fran gasped at the sight of him. The fur on his legs had completely worn away, his chest was ripped open to reveal the endoskeleton, his jaw hanging open and limp. His face was the worst stained of all the animatronics. It looked so painful.

“This one was your favourite, right?” Ethan asked, his tone taunting. “What an ugly beast. More scrap than fox, huh?” He jeered, poking a finger into one of the rips.

The hook came swishing down, catching and ripping at the skin on Ethan's exposed forearm with barely a sound but Ethan's scream. Monnie rushed to Ethan while Fran stumbled backwards, the lights flickering on. Daniel and Miles' footsteps could be heard coming closer.

“Fucker!” Ethan yelled, pushing Foxy over with all his might, causing the old fox to fall over with an almighty bang. Fran squealed in shock, while Monnie pulled Ethan back, away from the fallen robot. Miles and Daniel ran into view, eyes widening at the sight of Ethan's blood dripping onto the small stage.

“What happened?” Daniel asked, while Miles just raised his eyebrows at Fran.

“That was unnecessary Ethan, he didn't mean it!” Fran scolded, staring at Foxy's prone form on the floor.

“Oh shut up Fran, it drew blood, it was asking for it!” Ethan yelled back, clutching his arm in pain.

“Um, guys?” Miles said, uncertainty dripping from his voice.

“Must've been a surge when you flicked the power on, caused it to move.” Monnie insisted, a wicked grin now appearing on her face. “But the audience don't need to know that, and it's all on camera. Ready to have your pain be monetised, Ethan?”

“No, we heard a scream before we turned the power on.” Daniel countered.

“Guys, you really need to see this.” Fran added her voice wary.

“So it's joint gave away or something. It's old, Daniel. Glitchy. It's lucky it wasn't scrapped for parts years ago.”

“MONNIE.” Fran and Miles shouted together, finally grabbing the rest of the crews attention.

Freddy, Bonnie and Chica were staring at them.

Before, they'd been staring out into the main party room, but they'd all turned to face them, their faces hidden in shadow, their eyes barely visible, and it was easy to imagine that, had they had eyebrows, they'd all be scowling at them. Except Freddy. Freddy's eyes were glowing red, a trick that Fran didn't even know he could do. They all stood staring at each other for a long time.

“I think you should apologise, Ethan.” Fran breathed.

“I'm telling you, Fran. Power surge. I don't have time for your ghost-believing ways this episode, I swear to god.” Ethan growled, walking over to the table, still clutching his arm. Bonnie and Chica's heads followed him, but Freddy remained fixated on the main group.

“But it wouldn't hurt.” Fran insisted. Those eyes were freaking her out now, and she could tell Miles was uncomfortable too.

“It'd hurt his pride. Just drop it.” Monnie waved her off. Daniel shrugged and went to the tables too. Still Freddy stared, even though most of the group was now at the table.

“Well, if you won't.” Fran said, turning back to Foxy's stage and jumping onto it. She felt a small thrill of rebellion, the knowledge that she'd just entered somewhere that was so forbidden when she was younger, although it was somewhat dampened by Freddy's stare. She places her hands under Foxy, underestimating how heavy he was. “Miles? A bit of help, please?”

Miles jumped up beside her and helped her pick Foxy up, placing him back into position, his claw now dripping with blood and his back dustier than ever. The fur was much less soft than she remembered. It was sad to see them all like this. Fran and Miles stepped back.

“We're sorry Foxy, we didn't mean it.” She said allowed. Ethan's mocking laugh was very loud. “Well, I'm sorry. I won't let it happen again.” She turned back to the stage, were Freddy was still staring at them. She slowly realised it wasn't them he was looking at, but rather Foxy. “I'm sorry too, Freddy. I don't want your friend to be hurt.”

“Yeah, I'm sorry Freddy.” Miles added on.

Freddy stared for a while longer, until he slowly turned to look into the centre of the main room again, his eyes returning to the familiar blue colour. Fran let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

“Well done, Fran. When I finally fire you, you can go work as a robot whisperer instead.” Ethan snarled.

“Hey, stop that. Just cos she wants to apologise to anything she 'hurts' doesn't make her bad at her job, Ethan. Leave her alone.” Monnie snapped. She was wrapping his arm up in bandages.

“You're gonna need a tetanus shot for that, mate.” Daniel teased. Ethan stuck up his middle finger on his good arm.

“I've got time after the shooting for that. Come on. Get on with your job. We've got about 6 hours of darkness left, get to it.” He demanded, putting his feet up on the table. “And no more helping the robots, Fran.”

“Come on, let's go.” Monnie instructed, thrusting the ghost hunting gear into Fran's arms and pushing her away from Ethan before she could do something she'd regret. “We'll start in the entrance way, do some readings.”

A bell chimed midnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever worked somewhere you used to go as a child? I got a job at the quintessential school trip location in my area, an amazing museum, last summer. I got to go past all the barriers, into the staff rooms, upstairs of the exhibits, let me tell you. Going to the forbidden/off-limit areas of places you grew up visiting is AMAZING. There's always a surprise to be had. Hence why Fran feels pumped to jump up on Foxy's stage.
> 
> Man these characters need to get a better job. This one seems too dangerous, and they all seem to hate their coworkers. And their boss. Maybe it won't be a problem for them soon, however.


	4. Rule Number 6

The first night had dragged by; they'd put him on on a Tuesday, their quietest day, just to train him up. Not that they were heaving the other 6 nights of the week, but no one seemed even remotely interested in going to a mascot pizzeria on a Tuesday. It didn't have the Monday morning blues, or the Wednesday mid-week excitement. It was just a Tuesday.

Thursdays were weird. Who even understands Thursdays?

But tonight was a Tuesday night; the pizzeria shut its doors at 10pm and now only a small handful of the teenage staff were left behind to clean up after the children had left. The evening guard watched them with amusement; the graveyard shift guard would be coming in soon, always early for his shift. But he wanted to watch the initiation.

“Go on, Miles. Break it. Break rule number 6.” Fanny taunted, pushing the newest team member towards the stage.

“I don't want to. I mean, what if I get in trouble?” Miles asked, staring at his new co-workers to avoid looking at the animatronics. Why'd he get a job here again?

“You won't, kid. It's mostly a rule for the little ones.” The evening guard, Seb, shouted down the corridor. He was watching them on the cameras with amusement. Nothing happened here any more anyway, might as well spend the end of his shift laughing at the kids.

“We've all done it. Stop being a wuss.” Roger egged him on.

“The boss said he wasn't to be touched. By anyone.” Miles insisted. _Not even to be cleaned._ Yet somehow Freddy didn't ever seem to look dirty. Someone had to clean the old bear.

“That's all insurance stuff, they don't want us pushing them over cos they'll break. We're not even asking you to hug him, just press his nose. Come on, it's fun!” Fanny said.

“The kids used to hug Freddy all the time. He's lovely! Just press his nose Miles, don't be a coward.” Roger teased.

Miles had had enough. He jumped up on the stage and faced Freddy, and suddenly lost all his bravado. These animatronics were huge! Nearly 7 feet each and Miles was still waiting on a couple of growth spurts to get him anywhere near 6 foot. And those eyes, those staring, soulless eyes...

“Come on Miles, halfway there! Just push his nose.” Seb shouted again. Miles took another step towards the bear, now within the robots reach but the bear still out of his. He was almost certain he saw Bonnie's ears twitch out of the corner of his eye.

Another step, then another. Chica's eyes seemed to be following him (a trick of the designer perhaps?), until he was stood almost toe-to-toe with Freddy. The bear loomed over him, fat, fluffy, the friendly face almost too human, sending chills down Miles' back.

“Just push the nose, Miles. Come on!”

“Be a man!”

Miles reached up, almost having to go on tippy toe to reach, placing his index finger on the shiny, plastic nose and pushing it until it honked. He gave a slight giggle, before turning back to his co-workers. “See, I'm not a-”

Quick movement, the sound of metal scraping against metal in the silence of the party room, caused Miles to leap forwards, falling off the stage and landing painfully on his bottom on the floor below. Fanny, Roger and Seb all burst out laughing at him. Miles quickly jumped up, turning around to look at Freddy.

He'd moved, his arms outstretched as if to grab at where Miles had been stood mere moments earlier, his eyes glowing red and wide open. Just then the front doors opened, and the graveyard shift guard came in.

“W-what are you all doing here?” He asked, his voice it's usual quivering sound. He looked at the stage and saw Freddy's glowing eyes with a crestfallen expression. “Oh come on, this shift's hard enough without you teasing the band.”

“What do you mean? Nothing happens at night.” Seb said. “You drew the long straw, mate.”

“Yeah, just you believe that.” The night watch mumbled. “Now come on. Out with all of you. No-one but me gets to break the final rule. Go.”

He ushered them all out quickly, locking the doors behind them. Roger scoffed.

“He's always like that. Been working here years, jumpier than a rabbit.” Roger told Miles. “I don't know what his problem is.”

But Miles suspected, if Freddy had jumped him that badly when he was surrounded by others, working the graveyard shift alone would be enough to scare the sense out of any man. He was suddenly a lot more thankful for his job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had an idea for the silliest cross-over of fandoms I'm in. Consider: FNAF and Professor Layton. Would anyone read that? Let me know below.
> 
> (Also, yes, the night watch man/graveyard shift night guard is Phone Guy. He won't make too big of an appearance in the fic considering he's been dead at least 15 years, but this isn't his last appearance.)


	5. 12am- Ethan gets his hands dirty

Even with the lights on, the EM wave pushed right against the old wiring, the little machine didn't seem to pick up anything. Infrared showed nothing of interest, the night vision just made the crew seem creepier. There was absolutely nothing to work with.

“Either all the equipment is busted or Freddy's is literally the most un-haunted place in America.” Daniel moaned, sliding the audio recorder across the desk towards Monnie. It picked up on the sound it made itself, at least.

“I mean, don't you find that strange?” Fran asked, still holding her Geiger counter. “This place is old, the wiring is shoddy, it should be going haywire by that fact alone.”

“Are you suggesting this place is even more haunted because it shows no signs of being haunted?” Daniel asked.

“Fran's not lying. I think we had like, 3 electrical fires while I was here alone. You couldn't leave the power on too long or it'd fry the whole system, and then the audience. But we're getting nothing that suggests there's any problem.” Miles added.

“So they rewired it before shutting. Big deal.” Daniel said.

> _They hurt him._

“What did you say?” Fran asked.

“Rewiring, you know, removed all the wires and replaced them with newer stuff.” Daniel said slowly.

  * _It's not that bad._




“No no, I got that.” Fran said, straining her ears.

_**I won't let them get away with it.** _

  * _Do we have to? Can't we just wait it out?_




Fran grabbed the audio recorder, watching the oscillator say there was no unusual sounds to be heard.

> _They're adults, we can't trust them._

_**They hurt you, they'll hurt someone else.** _

_We have to do something._

“Can't you hear that?” Fran asked desperately. It sounded like whispering, echoing through the halls from terrified voices. “Sounds like children.”

Monnie was rolling the camera, although she didn't look too impressed. The oscillator still didn't pick up on the voices.

“No-ones saying anything, Fran.” Daniel drawled before Monnie stopped rolling. “Honestly. There's nothing. You're just creeped out.”

“I don't blame you, after what Foxy did to Ethan.” Monnie sympathised. Fran pursed her lips.

“I'm not making this up. Someone was whispering.”

“Saying what?” Miles asked.

“I don't know, it was kinda faint. Far away.” Fran said, knowing it sounded pathetic. She had heard voices, but they were so... indistinct. As if trying to not let them hear.

“Well, if you're done being a creepy sod, let's move on to the next area.” Daniel huffed, taking the oscillator from Fran. “Where's whispering likely to come from then, Miles?”

“Probably the guard's office. That place is apparently the most dangerous of all the places in the restaurant.” Miles offered, leading the way to the back of the pizzeria, passing Ethan napping by the tables. The robots hadn't moved.

  * _You're right. We can't wait for them to..._




_Just like old times_

> _We'll keep the children safe._

//////////////////////

Ethan stretched out his arms behind him, still sat on the old chairs, feet up on the table. His left arm was bandaged and still stinging like crazy. He turned to stare down the corridors the far end of the room, he spotted everyone else walking into an office at the far end. Ah well, time for some peace and quiet.

Except those old things were really creeping him out. He looked over them all again, counting the three on stage but noticing that Pirate Cove's curtains were now closed again. He cursed Fran under his breath, certain that she had done it.

“Stop hiding the creepy bastards from me. It hurt me, I've a right to know where it is at all times.” Ethan complained, getting up to pull the curtains back again. Foxy still stood there, the blood now dried in a puddle below his hook. The mouth still hung open as if in shock. “I don't know how anyone could love these things.”

He turned around with a jump. Freddy had moved off stage, and was standing a couple of metres away from him. He had the same blue eyes, the microphone still in his hands, but he was staring intently at Ethan. Ethan backed away slightly. It wasn't just the fact that Freddy had moved, but it had been so silent too.

Back on stage, Bonnie and Chica were staring at him too, the guitar and cupcake now discarded. Ethan took another step back, turning as he heard heavy footsteps rapidly moving behind him. He leapt to the side as he spotted dusty, red fur, stifling a scream. Foxy had moved now too, the hook raised again, mouth still open.

“What the hell? Guys, I think you should see this.” Ethan yelled out, turning to face the corridor everyone else had disappeared down, turning back quickly to keep an eye on everyone.

Freddy had disappeared again.

A deep laugh swirled around the room, giving no indication of its source, Ethan spinning in place to try and locate it, stopped by the sounds of rapid, heavy steps that showed that Bonnie and Chica had now left the stage too. Chica seemed to be trying to flank him from his right, while Bonnie was heading straight on. With Foxy on his left, that only left one direction to retreat.

Backwards.

Into soft fur.

Ethan went to scream, only to get a mouthful of brown fur as Freddy clasped one massive hand over his face, the other arm grabbing him around his stomach. The footsteps came faster as Bonnie rushed over, the kicks Ethan gave out just bouncing off of Freddy's shins. He quickly lost that weapon too, as Bonnie pulled him off his feet, helping Freddy carry him.

/////////////////////////

_The adult kicked out uselessly, he didn't seem to understand that his punishment was inescapable. The back room beckoned, the old suits still ready and waiting to be filled. Bonnie helped carry the adult over the threshold, but dropped him and left Freddy to the rest, closing the door on the two. The heavy door, which sound barely passed through once it was closed._

_The other adults wouldn't suspect a thing._

_Still, Freddy kept his hand clamped over the man's mouth, neither tongue nor teeth doing anything more to deter the bear than the kicks to his old, unfeeling legs. With a suit picked out, Freddy leaned back, just enough to get the man off his feet. Those same, wildly flying feet were quickly shoved into the suit, having to move quickly so that the screaming man didn't set off the spring locks too early. With the legs secured, Freddy let go of the man's mouth, the screams and curses becoming loud again, and instead focused on shoving the man's torso into the death trap._

_Years of practice meant the man was quickly trapped, the back secured, and the spare head forced over his own. The suit flailed angrily for a moment, before all the locks snapped with a loud crunch. The screams stopped, unable to continue without air rushing through the windpipe, as metal bars and cross beams forced their way through ribs and into lungs, into throats and piercing muscle. Blood seeped out of every gap in the suit, the man's eyes bulging out as new ones forced in their place. What little sound he could make seemed to be begging for help, for release from the pain._

_But none would come. Freddy knew that all too well._

_///////////////////_

Smiling posters and drawings still lined the walls of the corridors leading to the office, more footage taken. Freddy, Bonnie and Chica smiled out at them, their separate slogans decorated the posters too. Daniel read out each and every one in overly sing-song tones.

The office itself wasn't very big, with 2 doors and some computers, and an old fan. Miles tapped it carefully with a grin. “Seb always said you could cut your finger off with this.”

“Maybe this place is haunted by the fingers of little children, eh Fran?” Daniel asked, wiggling his fingers in her face.

“There are cameras here.” Monnie said, pointing into the corridors just outside the room.

“And there's doors too.” Daniel added, reaching over to push the door buttons to close them all in. “Bit of peace and quiet from Ethan.” He sat back in the office chair.

Monnie tapped at the buttons on the computer, hoping for something to turn on. “If we can get the cameras up and running, we can get them to do some of our work for us.”

“They don't record. They just monitor.” Miles said. “Dunno why.”

Monnie huffed and sat on the floor, leaning against the door to the East corridor, Miles leant against the door to the West corridor, while Fran sat on the desk. They were quiet for a moment.

“Do you think this place is haunted, Fran? Cos we're not getting anything.” Daniel asked. He didn't believe in ghosts, neither did Miles or Ethan. Monnie was indifferent. But Fran reckoned she could sense them, and that nowhere they'd been had actually been haunted so far. Everything could be explained by science.

“I don't know.” She admitted. “I did hear whispering, and this place seems just... too normal, you know?”

“You think a place with 5 murders should be a little more bizarre, then?” Monnie asked. None of the cameras were on now. It all seemed a bit pointless.

“5 disappearances, Monnie. There's no evidence they died.” Miles corrected her. “Or at least, that's what we were trained to say.”

“I don't want them to be dead.” Fran continued, quietly. “And, if they are.... I don't want them to be here. They deserve better than that.”

“We've covered child murders and ghosts before, but this one really seems to be getting you down.” Monnie said sympathetically. “I knew it was a bad idea, I told Ethan, he wouldn't listen.” She stood up and went to press the door button.

  * _Did you get him?_




“Wait.” Fran instructed. It was even quieter this time, and she had to press the button to turn the fan off to hear anything of it at all, but the whispering had started again.

_**Just the one. But the important one.** _

_That'll teach them._

> _What about the others?_

_**We'll get them soon, don't worry. They won't get away.** _

_Leave them to me, you should have a rest._

> _You're not having all the fun, I'll help too._

  * _I'll keep my eyes open, make sure no one starts cheating._




_It's a plan._

“What is it?” Daniel asked, straining his ears to try and hear.

“I think someone's planning something.” Fran said with a shudder. “But I couldn't tell what.”

“Your dead friends?”

“Possibly.” Fran said. She couldn't recognise any of the voices but they were all whispering, so she didn't really have a chance.

“So, haunted?” Monnie asked, grabbing her camera with a smirk.

“Haunted restaurant.” Fran confirmed, her stomach sinking.

“Well then. Let's go find a ghost.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a play around with what AO3 offers me to distinguish the four ghosts voices. You might be wondering why I didn't use certain ones. Maybe you should try to guess why that might be.
> 
> So far they reckon there's just a few ghostly children traversing the pizzeria, they have no clue on what they're capable of yet. They've yet to meet an actual ghost, afterall.


	6. Puppy!

With a lolling tongue that only threatened to get longer, little teeth that already shredded the best of shoes, and soft, floppy ears that you could easily lose your hands in, the new puppy was an absolute success. He's cheered Susie up no end, and her sadness at no longer being the centre of attention with a new baby brother around was quickly lost, since there was a dog that insisted on giving her every inch of his attention instead.

Even if that attention could only last about 5 seconds.

He wasn't that spectacular, a mongrel they'd picked up from a local family who's dog had accidentally jumped into the neighbours garden and now had 10 puppies to re-home, but he suited them all perfectly. He'd be large once he was grown, but for now he was content to be carried around in Susie's arms, cradled like a baby and loved almost as dearly as one.

Long were the days Susie would take him outside to the grassy fields to roll around, both needing a bath as soon as they got back. And he loved to go pick her up from school, with all the kids crowding around to pet the puppy who got so much more attention than he could ever hope for, although they were all ignored the second Susie was in sight. He only had eyes for her.

A shame they were cut out.

Susie had been the one to find him; he'd gotten out, it had only been a couple of minutes, and barely even that far down the street. Her father had said that he'd been hit by a car, the blood and viscera were that severe, that strewn out across the street, it was the only explanation. Susie didn't want to believe it, even if she'd seen it with her own eyes. Her beloved puppy couldn't be dead!

After all, the nice rabbit said he'd help her get him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure I'm entirely satisfied with this chapter, but I can't for the life of me figure out how to fix it. So I'll put it up now, and maybe when I get back to it in a bit I'll have a better idea and fix it up.
> 
> Heeeeeyyyyyy guess who's interests have shifted again and might have to put this on the back burner with her other many in progress fics? No guarrantee when I'll get back into FNAF. Could be 4 weeks. Could be 4 years. Only fandom I could set my watch to with how regularly I get back into it is Professor Layton (always when I'm on holiday, strangely enough). I don't find writing for out-of-interest fandoms that exciting or enjoyable and I feel my writing suffers for it too, so hopefully I'll return when I stumble back into this fandom again.
> 
> Please spay and neuter your pets so an evil murderer won't kill the puppy in order to lure a small girl to her own death.


End file.
